


promised you'd lay flowers on my grave

by mwestbelle



Series: Petsitting 'verse [2]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Biting, Breathplay, Dom/sub, M/M, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/231359">Framed to bend</a> (the "petsitting" fic). What happens after the story, and a little bit of what happened before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	promised you'd lay flowers on my grave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turlough](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turlough/gifts).



> Warnings: D/s, breathplay, waxplay, biting, poorly/non-negotiated D/s scenes, mentioned alcohol abuse
> 
> Written for [turlough](http://archiveofourown.org/users/turlough/pseuds) for Sweet Charity -- thank you so much! Thanks also to swagneto and cool_rain_kiss for the betajobs! Title and cuttext from The Airborne Toxic Event's "Something New."
> 
> (Originally posted June 29, 2009)

The amount of time Bob would spend indulging Gerard's ridiculous vampire kink was impressive. It felt like it had been hours since they stripped naked, climbed in bed, and Bob started digging his teeth into the flesh of Gerard's neck. He certainly ached like it had been, a deliciously hot soreness that he knew he'd keep feeling in the morning.

Gerard tugged against the restraints--just old ties that looked like Bob might have worn them in middle school this time, nothing heavy duty--and keened high in the back of his throat while Bob scraped his teeth along the exposed curve of his neck. His skin was already littered with bite marks and bruises, hickeys that were rising purple and tender under his jaw and across his collarbones.

"Don't make me," Bob muttered against the skin of his throat, and Gerard was down far enough that he was fuzzily confused until Bob wrapped his hand around Gerard's wrists, holding him steady. "Stay."

But he bit down hard on the side of Gerard's neck, down in a perfect line from his ear, just where a vampire should bite, and Gerard's whole body twitched when he gasped. Bob drew back and Gerard sighed at the loss.

"Told you to stay still, didn't I?" Bob raked his fingernails over the tender bite marks on Gerard's throat. Gerard whimpered and twisted his head away, savoring each spark and burn. He knew Bob had more plans for him, and if he had to be a little bit bad to find out what they were, well. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

Bob climbed of the bed and padded over to his dresser. Gerard watched the interplay of the muscles in his back, and at the curve of his ass. Gerard loved Bob's ass; with all the baggy jeans he wore, no one would know it existed until he was naked. It was like a secret between the two of them.

And then he turned around, and Gerard definitely had no complaints about the new view. Gerard licked his lips, watching the sway of Bob's cock, thick and full against his belly, while he walked. It was easy, when he was into it like this, to focus on one thing, to stare at Bob's dick and imagine it in his hand or in his mouth, how it would be heavy and bitter on his tongue. Easy for his focus to go in tight and easy to not notice what Bob was carrying. Maybe even not to notice the candle in his hand until the wax hit just above Gerard's navel.

He hissed, muscles clenching instinctively under the flare of heat. It was only hot for a second, though, scorching for a moment and then pleasantly warm. It made his skin feel taut and tight where it hardened, and he wriggled a little, excited and enjoying the dual sensations. Bob chuckled and circled his cool fingers around Gerard's nipples. "You're like a puppy, shit. You love it, don't you?"

He dripped wax onto the right nipple, and then the left, and Gerard made a sharp sound, first at the burn, and then the way his nipples throbbed at the subsequent tightness. Bob kept dripping, pouring, until there was a pattern of wax drizzled all across his chest. Vaguely, the artist part of his mind wanted to know what it looked like, but he was primarily concerned in breathing in and out, feeling the uncomfortable tug of his skin trying to move under the hardened wax.

Bob fucked him like that, spread out on his back with his chest burning and prickling, warm in all the best ways. Bob's chest bumped against the firm nubs of wax, knocking some of them askew when he really got into it. Gerard wrapped his legs around Bob's back to press his heels into his ass, pulling him in with every thrust. If they were doing a serious scene, Bob would probably slap him and tie him spread-eagled, but as it was, he just laughed against Gerard's jaw and thrust in harder. Gerard ground into it, working his hips up and rubbing his cock against Bob's belly until Bob ducked his head and _bit_ him again, and then he came with a whine. Bob fucked him through it until he was whimpering again, sore and happy and ready, and Bob closed his eyes and followed him all the way down.

Afterward, Bob untied his wrists and set about peeling the rest of the wax off his chest. Gerard grumbled with each chunk off, coming slowly and muzzily out of the halfway headspace he'd been in.

"You're all marked up." Bob pressed his thumb against one of the red ovals from the wax and then one of the purplish hickeys.

"I like that." Gerard smiled up at him, a little lazy, and Bob snorted and kissed him, slow and sloppy. He did like it; he liked to poke at the marks while Bob was at work, feel the tenderness in his flesh and remember the sharpness of being marked. He liked to look at himself in the mirror and tiptoe his fingers along each discoloration. It was a surefire way to get hard and ready for an ambush when Bob finally got home, but it was more than that. It reminded him that he was taken care of. He was loved, and he was happy. He kissed Bob back, because it was more than he could put in words, and he blinked up at Bob with a smile when they parted.

"Do you want ice cream?"

Bob looked down at him and shook his head before flopping down on his back. " _You_ want ice cream. You're not going to trick me into getting it for you."

"Fuck you." Gerard sat up and climbed out of bed. "See if I get you any."

"I don't want any," Bob said, eyes closed and a smug smile twisting his mouth. Gerard snorted and picked up Bob's oversized fuzzy blue robe. It looked ridiculous on both of them, but it was warm, and Gerard wasn't really a fan of wandering through the apartment naked. There were windows; anyone could be looking through them.

He stopped in the bathroom first to look in the mirror and ran his thumb over his chest. He licked his lips, then raised his voice so it would carry back. "I look like I was attacked by leeches."

"Fuck _you_ ," Bob called from the bedroom. Gerard grinned at his reflection and went on to the kitchen. He got one of the bowls that he and Bob had purchased--Bob's kitchenware consisted mostly of things he'd stolen from his mother or things people had brought food in for parties and then left at his place; Gerard had to convince him to get an actual dinner set because that was a _thing_. A grown-up coupley thing that he felt like he'd been waiting his whole life for--out of the cabinet, and the ice cream from the freezer. Chocolate chip this week. Theoretically, they were alternating weeks for ice cream choice, but Bob mysteriously ended up buying the kinds Gerard liked best every time he went shopping, putting it in the fridge with a grumbled _Forgot whose week it was_ once he was home.

Gerard filled the bowl, because Bob would just steal bites from him anyway, and there might as well be enough for both of them. No one liked getting out of bed more than once.

He was heading down the hall when he heard a quiet knock on the front door. The clock on the DVD player said 12:05, so it was most likely Mr. Walker from the end of the hall. His cats had a tendency to get out at the oddest times, and Bob was secretly a huge teddy bear and would always help him go round them up again.

Gerard wrapped his robe a little tighter around himself and walked over to the front door, toes curling a little when the carpet gave way to cool tile in the entranceway. He would just have to tell Mr. Walker that Bob was _indisposed_ at the moment. Better luck next time, or whatever, but when Gerard opened the door, it wasn't Mr. Walker.

He felt a little bit like he was underwater. He hardly heard the bowl hit the floor--it might have shattered, but he couldn't be sure--and Bob's concerned "Gee? What the fuck did you do?" sounded farther away than it possibly could be inside the apartment. Tile was rough on the knees, but even though he hit it hard, he barely felt more than a vague sting. It was automatic, instinctive, constant in a way that he might not have thought of in months but had never forgotten.

Brian's hand was warm against his cheek and his smile was everything Gerard could remember wanting so desperately. "Have you been a good boy while I was away?"

*

Bob took Brian into the kitchen, and after he pulled himself up off the floor, Gerard went to the bedroom and got dressed. He was down the stairs before he flipped his phone open. Mikey answered on the second ring.

"It's late."

"I know." Gerard stuffed his free hand in the pocket of the oversized sweatshirt he'd pulled on--it was Bob's, smelled like him and was too big even on him--and hunched his shoulders forward. "Do you want to get coffee? Or something?"

"IHOP," Mikey said decisively. "By the highway. Do you need me to pick you up?"

"No, I'm fine." Even over the phone, silence was all Mikey needed to make Gerard smile a little. "I want to walk, Mikes. Clear my head."

"Be there in ten," Mikey said before hanging up.

Gerard very purposefully didn't think on the whole walk. He listened to the slap of his shoes on the sidewalk, and he looked at graffiti in all colors when he cut through the basketball courts that backed up to the high school.

When he got to IHOP, Mikey was sitting in a huge booth in the back, looking tiny in the space. There were only a handful of other customers, some college kids and some elderly people, and Gerard waved at the hostess when he walked past to slide in across from Mikey.

"Brian's back," Gerard said, and Mikey set his phone down on the edge of the table and nodded.

"I noticed. I'm back too."

"Shut up." Gerard paused when their server came over to pour each of them a cup of coffee, and Mikey ordered two chocolate chip pancakes, two honey wheat, and two with strawberries. Gerard shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. "He came. To Bob's."

Mikey scraped his fingernail against a crack in the handle of his coffee mug. "Shit."

"I know."

"Is he here to take you back as his love slave?"

Gerard choked on his coffee. "Jesus, Mikey, I'm not his _love slave_."

Mikey nodded vaguely, but there was an obvious glint in his eyes. "Not anymore."

"I never was, asshole." Gerard kicked him under the table, but after a lifetime, Mikey was able to tuck his legs back under him so Gerard couldn't reach. After a few search missions with his foot, Gerard gave up and propped his elbow up on the table, resting his head on his hand. "But. I don't know what I am now."

"Brian's your master or whatever, right?"

"I guess." Gerard looked into his coffee and pursed his lips, mouth tasting sour with words he couldn't get out. "But. He gave me away, you know? I've been with Bob for, fuck, almost six months?"

Mikey nodded, and Gerard knew that it was _weird_ , to talk about masters and being given away like a toy; it was a little weird to him and it was his life. But Mikey had always taken it in stride, more than Gerard ever could have asked him to. It was appreciated. "So what's going on?"

"I don't know." Gerard shrugged one shoulder and took a long swallow of coffee. "I...I left."

"Maybe they're fighting." Mikey's eyes lit up behind his glasses when the server set the stack of pancakes in front of him, even though his mouth stayed flat. "For your honor. Or your body. I don't know how these things work."

"And I do?" Gerard shook his head. "I was fucking dumped into this whole thing."

Mikey offered Gerard a forkful of the strawberry pancakes, which he accepted, chewing moodily while Mikey helped himself to the honeywheat. "It'll work out," he finally said, after a long silence and some coffee.

Gerard wanted to believe that. "You sure?"

Mikey shrugged. "It has to. Maybe not how you want. But it'll work out some way."

"Good point." Gerard swirled his coffee and watched Mikey eat. He licked his lips, and he knew he didn't have to guard his thoughts around Mikey, so he just said it. "Bob...he wouldn't. We're. It's not like me and Brian. It's something else."

Mikey nodded, and Gerard took a sip of coffee. It was true. There was no other way it _could_ end.

*

Brian didn't fuck him sober. Not exactly. He was already sober (or sobering up, at least) when Mikey dropped him off at Brian's place. Mikey didn't have his own apartment right now, and no one wanted Donna to see Gerard like this, least of all Gerard, and Brian...he fixed things. Everyone knew it, even if no one quite knew how, and maybe Mikey was hoping Brian could fix Gerard. Maybe _Gerard_ was hoping Brian could fix Gerard.

He went through it all, the shakes and the vomiting and the crying, and Brian was there but never oppressively. He was a steady hand on Gerard's shoulder when everything was crawling inside, and he was a glass of water on the sink when Gerard's mouth tasted bitter and acidic. And he was there when Gerard decided that it wasn't worth it.

"I'm fucking miserable," he said, pressing his face into the arm of Brian's couch. "I've always been fucking miserable. But now I can't even get my mind off it. Fuck."

"Is it worth it?"

Gerard tilted his face to look over at Brian when he spoke. When Brian looked at him, it was like being in the sights of a blue laser pointer. He was just _intense_ in every sense. There was something under the surface that Gerard didn't really understand.  
Gerard closed his eyes and sighed. "I know Mikey wants--"

"Forget what Mikey wants." Gerard opened his eyes and Brian was leaning forward, still watching him with that unnatural focus. "Do you want it?"

"I. Fuck. I do." Gerard crumpled up his face, wrinkling his nose and creasing his forehead. He felt hollow and wrong in the pit of his stomach, and he sighed again. "It's _hard_. I'm not...I've never been good at this. Doing what's good for me."

Brian nodded, and Gerard knew he understood, even though he barely knew him. He could tell.   
Brian was still leaning forward, and he frowned slightly before he spoke next, obviously considering it very carefully. "I can help."

"I." Gerard had read all the links that Mikey kept helpfully e-mailing him, and this was something he had to do on his own, something no one else could do for him. He was alone, and he knew that, but he _wanted_ someone to make it easier for him. He wasn't sure how long he could hold out on just his own power. He picked his head up off the couch and looked back at Brian with big, tired eyes. "Please."

Brian kept watching him for a few seconds, and then he stood up. He hiked his jeans up and sat down next to Gerard, and cupped his hand around the back of Gerard's neck when he kissed him.  
This wasn't one of the AA steps. And Gerard couldn't see how exactly it would help, except that while Brian's mouth was on his, he couldn't be putting booze into it. But it felt good, and it would be lying to pretend that he hadn't considered Brian's sharp blue eyes and expressive hands with more interest than he'd give just his brother's manager.

He opened up when Brian's tongue traced over his lips, and he choked when Brian's thumb dug in under his chin. Brian pulled back, not even an inch. Gerard could still feel the fullness of his lower lip brush against Gerard's when he spoke. "You're fucking desperate, aren't you?" Gerard opened his mouth to respond and Brian dug in harder, leaving him gasping. "It was a rhetorical question."

Gerard couldn't remember the last time his eyes were this wide. He couldn't speak, could hardly _breathe_ \--just a wheezing rattle, and Brian was still looking at him with his laser focus. Brian flexed his fingers against Gerard's throat, and Gerard was mortified to feel his dick twitch in his pants, a painfully obvious direct response.

"You're desperate," Brian said, matter-of-fact, as though he hadn't paused and like he wasn't cutting off half of Gerard's airflow, "for any kind of control. But you can't control yourself. You want someone to control yourself for you." Gerard looked helplessly back at him until Brian smirked and lifted his pointer finger from Gerard's neck to stroke is gently. "I want you to answer that."

" _Yes_ ," Gerard said, guttural and scratchy, forced through on the remnants of breath from his lungs. The pad of Brian's finger running along the sensitive skin just under the curve of his jaw made his insides shudder; he imagined that he could feel Brian's fingerprint, skidding along his skin. " _Please._ "

Brian didn't loosen his grip when he sealed his mouth over Gerard's again. He strained to breathe in through his nose while still maintaining some semblance of being a good kisser. He _was_ a good kisser, he had experience and tricks and everything, and if he was anything less than spectacular, it was because he was feeling light-headed.

Light-headed, and when Brian pulled back, he could breathe again, but he still felt hazy, in a warm, comfortable way. Hazy enough that he barely winced when Brian uncurled his fingers from his neck, even though he could feel the prickly pressure that told him it would bruise. Brian grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Gerard vaguely considered flinching away, or making some kind of joke about his body, but it took a long time for him to think, and Brian was already pushing him back, settling on top of him. He was tiny, light, but the pressure when he ground his cock against Gerard's was plenty rough.

It felt like nothing Gerard had ever experienced. It wasn't like being stoned, on anything he'd tried, not like that at all. It wasn't a _haze_ , exactly. It was being high without being confused, being out of it and in it all at the same time, and he could _feel_. Brian's hands were electric, stroking his shoulders and tweaking his nipples hard, digging his clipped nails into the soft flesh of his belly. And everything that happened came with a kind of warm clarity he was entirely unused to.

Brian kissed him hard, biting down on his lip, before climbing back to his feet and guiding Gerard to his with a hand in his hair. It hurt, but Gerard only managed a surprised sigh.  
Brian's bedroom was clean, simply furnished and _clean_. Almost pathologically so, and Gerard wasn't sure how he was managing to focus on the neatly ordered cleaning products in a crate just inside the closet when Brian was pushing him face down on the bed.

"Don't move," Brian said, and Gerard wanted to buck up and to never breathe again. He palmed his hand roughly over Gerard's ass, and even through his jeans, it made him arch his back. Brian slapped at his hip, not too hard but definitely not fooling around. "Don't _move_ , how the fuck do you expect me to do anything for you if you don't listen to me?"

"I'm listening," Gerard said, hurt, and Brian smacked him again, harder this time.

"Stop talking."

Gerard blurted out "But--" and Brian moved in an instant, straddling Gerard's ass and curling his hand back around his throat from behind, the edge of his hand cutting in at just the right place. Gerard choked and Brian squeezed.

"Is this the only way to get you to shut up, Gerard?"

Gerard gasped, and it barely got him a breath. If Brian squeezed a little harder, shifted his hand, Gerard wouldn't be able to breathe at all. Brian was everywhere, chest pressed flat to Gerard's back, one hand on his side and one on his throat. Brian held his entire life in his hand.

Gerard had never felt safer.

Brian didn't fuck him that first time. There was a lot that Gerard didn't remember, swimming up through his own consciousness to find himself sore and sated and happy with Brian lying against his side, gently running his fingernails over Gerard's belly.

"You went down," Brian said, without preamble. He smiled, with teeth. "You're a natural. Well. I'm also fucking awesome. But you're really a natural. This is going to work out."

Gerard closed his eyes and pretended he didn't want a drink. Somehow, it was easier than before.

*

Mikey insisted on driving him back to the apartment. He gave Gerard a serious look and a shoulder pat when he pulled up to the curb, and Gerard smiled and nodded.

He dawdled on the way up, stopping to look at the security stickers and reading all their neighbor's doormats. The apartment door was still unlocked, thankfully, since he'd forgotten to grab a key when he ran out.

No one was shouting, and there didn't seem to be any broken glass--not that Bob had a lot of glass to break, but when he was imagining some knockdown battle, broken glass was usually involved. Bob was sitting on the living room couch, alone. When Gerard came in, he stood up. He didn't come any closer, though; he stayed by the arm like he was moored there.

"You left."

Gerard shrugged one shoulder. "I figured you and Brian would want to figure things out."

"Yeah, well." Bob folded his arms across his chest. "We talked."

"And?"

Gerard knew what he was going to say. He was ready, waiting to hug him, maybe make out a little, finally crawl back into bed, until Bob said, "I'm giving you back."

His chest went tight, like he couldn't breathe, but there was nothing soothing about it. "What?"

"I'm. I was petsitting." Bob cocked his head, like a dog that didn't understand, and Gerard wanted to punch him. _Six months_ , and Bob wasn't even going to argue it? Six months of lying in bed together, arguing about curtains, fucking and joking and _living_ , and Bob was going to give him away.

"Petsitting."

"That's...it's what it is, Gee." The back of Gerard's neck prickled, and he must have looked murderous because Bob's eyes went a little wider, and he repeated blankly, "It's what it is."  
Gerard bit the inside of his cheek hard, until was tender and hot between his teeth. "So this is how it goes. You're just...you just want me to throw my crap in a bag and go. Rewind."

"You're not _mine_ ," Bob said, his voice rough with emotion, and it wrenched Gerard from what felt like miles deep inside, a hook in his gut. "I can't--"

Gerard snorted, warming up to the performance, to the anger. He felt like he hadn't been properly angry in a long fucking time. "Yeah, it'll be easier for everyone, right? You don't have to try to figure out what to tell your friends about me. I know you hate taking me anywhere."

"What am I supposed to say?" Bob bristled and closed his hand tight around the back of the couch, as though he was the one who got treated like something to be ashamed of from bar to bar. "They don't. Should I just tell them you're my pet? Or my...my sub?"

"How about your boyfriend?" Gerard's voice was still level, but it was sharp and he felt a nasty satisfaction when Bob flinched away from him. He exhaled, rough, like a dragon clearing its nostrils for the spurt of flame to come. He couldn't believe that Bob was so _stupid_. They'd never said it in so many words, maybe, but it had to be painfully obvious. He had known for months. "We _live_ together, you stupid fuck, we've been together six months. We bought _dishes_."

From the fishlike gulps of air Bob was taking in, he hadn't noticed. Maybe to him a dish was just a dish. "But you were Brian's."

Gerard shook his head, and his voice went quiet, small and measured. He was angry, but he was also scared now. This thing with Bob had changed everything, and now Bob was frighteningly willing to discard it all. "Yeah. But I'm yours now."

But there was a reason that Gerard was with Brian in the first place. Bob would do whatever he could, but Brian had something that Bob just _didn't_. It was intensity, and power, and Bob could probably find that inside him somewhere, but it would never make either of them happy. Gerard knew that, and now it seemed that Bob knew that too, shaking his head, and looking almost helpless. "I can't--I'm not him. I can't keep you clean, not forever."

Gerard looked at him for a long time. "Brian was never my boyfriend."

"He took care of you." Bob sounded forlorn, almost, and Gerard had to bite the inside of his lip before speaking again. It was true. They both knew why Gerard had been with Brian, but Bob didn't seem to grasp that this was _different_.

"He controlled me." Gerard was losing the anger quickly. He wasn't upset. He wasn't happy, obviously, but this wasn't an argument anymore. Bob, for whatever reason, clearly didn't understand what was going on. He could hardly be blamed for that, even if Gerard wanted to, because Gerard had never bothered to explain it. Now he had to. "I needed that."

Bob looked down at the couch and nodded. "I know."

But if Bob knew that, he still didn't know what he really needed to. Gerard moved closer, and his fingers were light on the back of Bob's hand, pale and careful. Bob looked up at him. "I don't need it anymore." Bob bit his lip and shook his head. Gerard dug his fingernails into Bob's hand, not out of anger. It was a way to draw his attention back, focus him so he heard what Gerard said and not what Bob had already convinced himself of. "I'm _clean_. I'm happy. I...yeah, I want to be held down and called names and fucked hard. But," he took a breath because he didn't think he would ever say this, but here he was. "I don't need you to control me."

Bob was still frowning. He was silent for a long moment, so at least Gerard knew he was listening, thinking. Eventually, he spoke, voice sounding rough and painful, like it was coming from somewhere he didn't usually touch. "I'm not sure I can tell the difference."

"I want to be yours. I don't need it." Gerard licked his lips, and his words were slow, measured. Not guarded but carefully chosen. It was something that he was still working out for himself, and he didn't want to say it wrong. "I...I _want_ it. It's something I can choose." Bob was looking at him with the same hopeless expression, so Gerard said it again, feeling how right it was as he said it. "I choose you, okay?"

"You choose me?" Gerard nodded, and he had to grin at Bob's tone--completely befuddled, like someone smacked him over the head.

"Fuck, yes."

Bob gave him a suspicious look, like Gerard might not know what he was saying. "You're choosing me over Brian fucking Schechter?"

Gerard snorted and pinched the delicate of Bob's skin hard between his fingernails.

" _Yes_ , you fuckhead, over _everybody_. Happy now?"

"Maybe." Bob pulled him in and kissed him, teeth tugging at his lip, and Gerard could handle that. Definitely.

"So you can call Brian fucking Schechter," Gerard said, when he surfaced again, "and tell him he's not getting his pet back."

(Bob never did call. The next morning, a courier brought a box with the rest of Gerard's toys and a few random things he'd never picked up after he first came to stay with Bob. There wasn't a note, but the _You absolute morons_ was implied.)


End file.
